


I'm Coming Clean

by Trish47



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Amilyn is a fairy (not really), F/M, Getting Clean, Kismet, Mention of blow job, Mistaken Identity, One Night Stands, Oral Sex, Pie, Ray? Oh R-E-Y, Shower Sex, Showers, Vaginal Fingering, Vibrators, college!Rey, former Marine!Ben, mentions of human trafficking, mentions of previous partners (unnamed), truck stops
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-29
Updated: 2019-08-29
Packaged: 2020-09-28 23:57:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,802
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20434634
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Trish47/pseuds/Trish47
Summary: Right before closing time, Rey books a hot shower at a truck stop. While locking up, Ben notices someone is still in the locker room and investigates. They both get more than they bargained for.





	I'm Coming Clean

**Author's Note:**

  * For [roguesgallery](https://archiveofourown.org/users/roguesgallery/gifts).

> This is a piece for roguesgallery as a part of the Plaid Paramour fic exchange. She asked for tree-planter Rey and truck stop owner Ben, plus showers and shenanigans.
> 
> Thank you to Caffeinated Jedi Rey for the beta and to my Reylo bestie CommanderCrouton for cheerleading me all along the way!

She was filthy. Since starting her summer job as a commercial tree planter, Rey couldn’t remember feeling truly clean. The advertisement she’d seen on the commuter lounge bulletin board had cheekily recommended only those who enjoyed mud and the great outdoors should apply.

Rey liked—okay, loved—trees and the great outdoors. Anything green and alive, really. At the time, she thought she could handle the grime the flyer teased. Turned out, she’d overestimated how many trees she’d see considering her job was to _replenish_ the stock and had underestimated just how much mud would be involved in the process.

Solid black lines of dirt rimmed her short nails, which no amount of scrubbing seemed to dislodge. On a nightly basis, she pulled twigs and leaves from her chestnut buns; and it looked like she’d gained a new smattering of freckles all over her body. Rey wasn’t sure how she managed to get so dirty when her work “uniform” consisted of a pair of ankle-length leggings and a long-sleeved cotton shirt to keep her shaded from the sun, but the barriers proved ineffectual against Mother Nature.

Of course, it didn’t help when her campsite had no working shower. She’d been using gallon jugs of water from the nearest gas stations to clean up before meals and bed. Thankfully, they’d finished a quadrant and had moved closer to civilization—as close to modern society as it got out here, anyway—for the next week. Highway signage even boasted of a truck stop with an all-American diner and hot showers.

_Hot. Showers._

Her body was ready. More importantly, so was her loofah. Half a week’s worth of sweat residue and soil had created a second layer of skin from which she planned to slough free.

For being a truck stop, there was only a handful of tractor trailers in the parking lot. The building was less skeevy than the billboard had made it out to be: it looked more like a log cabin than a typical pit stop, and the neon welcome sign and neatly trimmed hedges made the place look friendly and well-kept, if a little odd. Maybe this far up in the Pacific Northwest, everything had an air of being off the beaten path.

Inside, things were simple, woodsy, and worn in a kind of loved way. To her left, she saw the entrance to the narrow diner, its counter hosting one late-night coffee drinker and a tall, plaid-shirted server with dark hair. The bathrooms and two-shelf gift shop were on the right. Rey's eyes raked over the prepackaged snacks and various travel-sized supplies. Though her stomach rumbled, nothing interested her enough to waylay her trip to the service desk. Once she was clean, she promised herself a slice of the advertised homemade pies.

A reed of a woman touting a head of lavender-tinted hair sat behind the counter, a hand-thrown ceramic mug curled in her slender fingers. As Rey got closer, she could smell the sweet note of honey wafting up from her tea.

She couldn't help the groan of longing the nostalgic scent pulled from her. "I'd kill for a good cuppa," Rey said with a smile, following it with a more proper, "Hello."

"Sounds like you're far from home," she greeted, commenting on Rey's lilting accent. The older woman's voice was soft and lyrical. Not for the first time, Rey wondered if this part of the country was where America's Fae resided. "How can I help you?"

For a brief moment, she paused, debating if it would be wise to accept help from a mystical figure. Her skin twitched in protest, demanding something be done. "Shower, please."

The woman smiled, eyes twinkling in the light from the lamp on the counter. They flitted over Rey in a quick, assessing way, the curve of her lips and color of her hair tricking Rey into believing she was Alice meeting the Cheshire Cat.

"I thought that might be your answer." She stood, flipped open a ledger on the countertop, then reached for a pen and touched the tip to her tongue. "Name?"

Rey was relieved to find the woman had a few inches of vertical advantage over her. If this woman was a fairy, she'd be much shorter, right? Still, her movements and tone lent her an ethereal bearing.

The woman looked up from her ledger, pen poised. "Name?"

Startled and embarrassed to be asked twice, she quickly supplied, "Rey."

The woman scribed the name on the ledger, then cast a glance at the large analog clock on the wall. It was half past nine. "We aren't a 24 hour establishment," she began cryptically, removing a set of towels and a pair of flimsy foam flip-flops from underneath the counter. "It's a dollar fifty for five minutes. Quarters only."

Rey knew she'd arrived late, but when the summer sun didn't set until after eight o'clock and she worked until sundown, it couldn't be helped. "I'll be quick," Rey promised.

Instead of something encouraging like "No rush" or "You're fine," the woman simply said, "I'm going to start locking up. You'll see the used towel bins on your way out. Have a nice evening, Ray."

Dismissed, Rey shuffled down the hallway to the showers. The doors didn't define the spaces according to gender, only purpose; one wooden door read SHOWERS and the other proclaimed TOILETS. She pushed inside the former, steeling herself for what she might find. Thankfully, she seemed to be the sole occupant.

Not believing her luck, Rey set down her things on a low bench, removed her bag of shower supplies, and finally unzipped a compartment on the side of her backpack, removing a slim bullet vibrator. While camping with her cohort—composed entirely of men except for their forewoman, Gwen—she'd been too afraid of others hearing what she was up to. Some nights, she'd considered sneaking off to see to her needs, but the unhygienic conditions made her hold off.

Not tonight. She had a hot shower at her disposal and the locker room to herself. This was not a gift she would squander.

* * *

Ben wiped the counter immediately after Rick stood and signed off for the night with a small salute. "Drive safe," he told the old-timer who stopped in for a cup of coffee to kick off his overnight hauls.

"Keep the pot on for me," Rick said.

"Always."

Ben enjoyed the rapport he'd built with his regulars over the course of the last year. He wasn't sure, when he took over his uncle's truck stop, that things would work out. It was a far cry from his time as a Marine, though perhaps that's just what the doctor had ordered.

And his doctor _had_ ordered it. _Take things slow. Practice your breathing. No more salty foods_.

Having a heart attack when he was supposed to be in the prime of his life had forced him to reevaluate. If it meant prolonging his time, he could curb the adrenaline rushes and nightly nacho feasts. It was easy up here, tucked away from city life and the temptation to overindulge on everything. The biggest thing to get stirred up around these parts was the chocolate peanut butter pie—an old recipe his mom made every holiday.

Ben had adjusted. His blood pressure had improved. And if things were too quiet, he popped his headphones in while he cleaned. Now that Rick was gone and closing time approached, that was exactly what he did.

As he washed down the coffee machine—the last item on his list—Amilyn strode by, waving a wordless goodnight. He nodded and waved in return, then turned up his music and began closing out the till. When he finished with the diner, he walked over to the main service counter. Amilyn had left the light on, indicating they still had someone in the showers. Ben glanced at the ledger, noting that Ray had arrived at half past nine, then checked the clock: five minutes until closing. He was probably long gone, but it would be best to double check.

Ben headed down the hall, pulling one earbud out, and pushed open the shower room door. Steam hit him full in the face, and his boot soles squeaked on the thin layer of condensation covering the floor and every other surface. Ray had turned the room into his personal sauna.

He cleared his throat to announce himself, then warned, “Head’s up: I’m five minutes out from lockup.”

“I’m almost--” The sentence was interrupted by what sounded like a garbled moan, though it was hard to tell with Iron Maiden playing in his other ear. “--almost there. _Done_. I mean done.”

The words didn’t concern him so much as the voice: female and young, without doubt. Ben stepped into the room fully now, leaping into action before he could check himself: he was vigilant about human trafficking, a sadly common issue at truck stops across the country. He wouldn’t allow his stop to be a hub for criminal activity. If a girl was in there with Ray. . .well, he’d finally see some action in this sleepy sector of the forest, doctor’s order be damned.

He grabbed the top of the stall door and yanked so hard the flimsy lock had no chance. The small bolt split and flew somewhere behind him as he swung the door wide, declaring, "Now see here--"

His words were cut off by a shriek, issued from the woman—yes, young, but also entirely alone—standing in the waterstream, one leg propped up on the wall. As was the case with most people showering, she was entirely nude.

His eyes doubled in size, capturing every detail they could in the span of a breath. Then she shouted at him again, phrases utterly unintelligible because of the blood rushing to his ears and the thrum of his pulse against his eardrums. He'd stared down near-death situations overseas, but the sudden sight of a beautiful naked woman left him completely shell-shocked. His hand clutched at his chest, the scar beneath his flannel itching at the overstimulation.

"Sorry! Miss, I'm so, so sorry!" he stammered, beginning to raise the hand on his chest to cover the eyes instead. They refused to close on their own when presented with such enticing imagery.

"Pervert!" she yelled, one arm stretching over her breasts. The other held up the slim tool she'd been holding near her legs—a razor, perhaps?—and launched it directly at his head.

She had good aim, a fact he might find impressive if she hadn't hit him directly on the chin. Ben had maintained his sharp reflexes as a civilian, catching the projectile as it bounced off his face.

"Ah!" he exclaimed when the tool buzzed in his hand. His brain put two and two together before his eyes could totally identify the object as a vibrator.

Ben jostled it in his hands, ultimately letting it fall to the floor. He stumbled back, slipped on the wet tile, and went careening backward on a strangled call for help.

He never felt his head smack the floor.

* * *

_Shit!_ The massive man fell back, arms spinning like propellers; he tried to grab onto something to slow his descent, but the attempt proved futile: only air surrounded him. Rey’s stomach dropped at sound his body made as it collided with the tile. Had she killed him?

After a moment standing frozen beneath the warm stream of water, Rey exited the shower. She approached the man on tiptoe, as though afraid to wake a sleeping giant—one who became more and more attractive the closer she got. His hair was dark and long enough to dust the underside of his jaw; half of it had been combed into a messy bun at the crown of his head. Belatedly, she recognized him as the server behind the bar. No trace of pain tweaked his full lips or knitted across his brow; she’d say he looked almost peaceful if his arms and legs weren’t all akimbo on the locker room floor.

She considered throwing on her clothes, grabbing her things, and getting the hell out of there. It would be the smart thing to do. Before he woke up and she had to talk to the man who’d just seen her naked and on the edge of self-driven ecstasy. Before he accused her of attacking him—even if he’d caught her vibrator before freaking out about it and falling over. Before the freaking adorable moles and beauty marks scattered over his face could captivate her any more than they already were.

But she couldn’t bring herself to leave him. Not without confirming that he didn’t have a concussion or a brain bleed or something even more serious. He’d never fit on the back of her bike if he needed to go to the hospital; she’d have to call an ambulance.

_Maybe I should call one anyway_, she thought as she quickly wriggled into a pair of shorts and a fresh bralette. She cast a glance over her shoulder, half concerned, half curious. Just as she pulled on a t-shirt and decided to find the desk clerk who had allowed her into the showers, Rey heard him groan.

She padded over to him, feet splashing in puddled water on the tile. Crouching next to him, she watched as his eyes blinked open, then squinted against the halogen lighting overhead. “You’re alive,” she remarked. “That’s a good start.”

“Who are you?” he asked, then followed it with another question, this one filled with disapproval. “Where’s Ray? If he brought you here to--”

Ah, she knew what that phrase was leading to, and she rushed to clarify the situation by shaking her head, placing a hand on his chest, and saying, “No. I’m here on my own.” It wouldn’t be the first time someone had mistaken her gender because of her name; her college professors did it all the time. “I’m Rey.”

His head cocked to the side, groaning again at the movement and reaching one hand to rub his neck. “You’re Ray?”

“R-E-Y,” she spelled out. “Not common, I s’pose.”

“It’s pretty.”

Rey rolled her eyes. “You sounded like you weren’t overly fond of ‘Ray’ before. Now it’s pretty?”

“You’re pretty.”

She watched his cheeks grow flushed over the admission. His front teeth sank into his bottom lip in a way that cajoled her to lean forward, to mimic him by biting her own and blushing at the back-to-back compliments. “A nasty blow to the head, then,” she teased with a sheepish smile. “Can you see properly?” Framing his face with her hands, she gently tugged his eyelids up to check how they responded to the light. Though mostly to embellish her jest, Rey figured it wouldn’t hurt to be thorough.

Large, warm hands circled her wrists, encompassing half of her forearms too. “My vision is fine. Perfect.”

“Too bad,” she said with a pitying shake of her head. “It would have helped your apology if you’d been near-sighted.”

His hands squeezed her wrists lightly. “I am sorry about that,” he began. “I don’t normally barge in on my customers showering.”

Rey shook her head again. “I understand why. Has that been a problem here? Trafficking?”

“No.” He released her wrists and used his arms to prop himself on his elbows, grimacing the whole time. He closed his eyes again like he was trying to fight off a headache. “No, it’s never happened here. And I intend to keep it that way.”

Rey pivoted her body to kneel perpendicular to his shoulders, positioning herself so she could catch him if he fell back unexpectedly. She rubbed a hand up his spine in an effort to comfort him but found his red flannel soaked through on account of the watery floor. “You should have heeded the sign,” she remarked, nodding in the direction of the yellow ‘CAUTION: WET FLOOR’ triangle near the door. “It’s slippery in here.”

He reached around to feel the sopping mess sticking to his skin, swearing under his breath. He sat up fully, then turned onto his hands and knees before pushing himself to a stand. It all happened too fast for Rey to stop him. Nor did she have the chance to anticipate his next move.

In one swoop, his shirt was gone—lifted right over his head and crumbled into a wet ball he wrung out with his massive hands. The movement caused the rest of his muscles to ripple and strain.

Her mouth went dry. When he caught her staring, she eked out a quiet, “You’re very. . .” Rey stood as she contemplated an appropriate observation, “pale.” It was better than admitting how attractive he was, right?

“Not all of us enjoy sunbathing.”

Was he commenting on her tanlines? Right before starting her summer job, she, Rose, and Paige spent a week at the Ticos parent’s house, lounging by the community pool. She’d managed to hold on to her tan even while working fully clothed for the past several weeks.

Rey punched him—none too lightly—on his arm. “Caught quite an eyeful, didn’t you?”

“It’s a trap, isn’t it?” He wrung more water from shirt, not meeting her eyes. “This question.”

She wanted to fuck with him a little. Not _fuck_ him, mind. She didn’t even know the man’s name. A one-night stand would be crazy and irresponsible—though looking at him shirtless made a compelling case for it being a good time.

She bit her lip. “Show me.”

He blinked at her, mouth dropping open. “What?”

“Where my tan lines are.” She tugged on his arm until he relinquished a wet hand to her. Rey made a tsking sound and helped him rub away the excess moisture on his trousers. Then she curled his fingers until only the pointer remained. Holding it in front of her chest, she took a deep breath and straightened her shoulders. “Now, show me.”

“Is this a trick?” He wasn’t giving up the skepticism, but he stared at her chest like it was a puzzle. One he wanted to solve.

“A test,” she allowed. “Of your memory.”

Brown eyes swept across hers, then back to the small buds pushing against the cotton from his attention alone. “It’s impossible to forget an image like that.” He stepped closer, placing his finger on the side of her throat and crooking it under her t-shirt’s neckline, pulling it aside.

Rey slapped the back of his hand, calling the foul. “No cheating.”

He frowned. “There were straps. Thin ones, looped around the back of your neck.” His nail made simple swipes over her t-shirt to outline the bands. “The cups were small. Triangular.”

“Thanks for that,” she huffed, moving to cross her arms over her chest, but the man’s hand stopped her.

“Did I say anything to make you think small is bad?” He hiked a brow at her, the corners of his mouth pulling deeper into a frown.

She shrugged in his hold. “They aren’t my best feature. It’s the truth.”

“Oh, I’ll get to your best feature.” His eyes traveled south. Rey felt her face flush when his tongue darted out to wet his lips. “But first, you have to know,” he continued, dropping his shirt into puddled water, “small breasts are wonderful.”

Rey’s breath hitched as both pointer fingers drew lines under the gentle swell of her breasts. “They are?”

“Mmm,” he hummed. “I think yours would fit perfectly in my mouth.”

Her knees began to wobble at the possibility. “Oh.”

“Should I continue?”

She’d signed on for this, invited this. She was going to see it through. Rey nodded, swallowing the lump in her throat that made speaking difficult.

"There was nothing in the middle. You were wearing a bikini." His fingers lifted away momentarily before moving lower, skimming from her hips to the center of her body. Nails scratched over her denim shorts. He toyed with the button above her zipper, and Rey had to keep herself from doing something rash. Like roll her hips forward.

"Hmm."

Rey opened her eyes. He filled her vision, standing so close she could smell the faint remnants of the aftershave he must have applied that morning. Inside her chest, Rey's heart hammered against her ribs. A separate throbbing reminded her just how close she'd been to climaxing before he had interrupted her.

"What?" she rasped.

He crouched in front of her and glanced up through long, thick lashes. Rey couldn't resist the urge any longer and carded her fingers into his dark hair. A mane, more like. The crown of his head was damp from resting on the floor.

He flinched when she hit a particularly sensitive area. "Sorry." She began drawing her hand away, but he captured it and returned it to the same spot.

"It's okay," he told her. "It's validating to know this is real. I'm not just imagining it."

Hearing the unsteady thrum in his voice—the smallest tremor of uncertainty—reassured her more than anything else. Neither of them had anticipated this. . .pull? This connection? This bond?

She tugged on his hair lightly, dragging a grunt from his lips. Rey smirked. "An extra guarantee that this is very real."

"And wanted?"

Rey shifted her weight from one foot to the other. "I don't want you getting the wrong idea about me," she admitted. "One-night stands aren't really my thing."

"Mine either."

They said "but" at the same time, and their joint surprise morphed into corresponding smiles.

"But I want this," she told him, running her fingers through his hair again. Her smile turned wicked. "You still have some lines to trace."

"Ah," he agreed. "I do."

His fingertips slid underneath the hem of her t-shirt and played with the waistband of her shorts, running back and forth along the lip. His knuckles grazed her skin, brushing under her navel, and Rey felt heat race up her spine.

"I think I need a hint," he murmured. "I can't remember how far your bottoms scooped down." He drew one curved line under her button, saying, "It was either here, or--" He made another mark, this one rubbing directly over her pubis, far lower than any natural bikini line. "Maybe here."

A pulse beat low in her gut. As if to quiet it, her free hand roamed down her stomach; it stopped at the button and popped it through the eye. "I suppose I could let you peek."

Her fingers worked the zip, knowing full well that in her haste to dress after he fell, Rey had skipped shucking into her underwear.

The man noticed immediately, eyes widening as he saw the clear demarcation between her tan line and the skin the sun hadn't missed.

"Now I remember," he said, thumbing the half inch of space between her tan and the thatch of curls at the apex of her thighs. His left thumb joined the right, spreading the denim and shimmying it down another inch. When his thumbs reached her hip bones, he paused, making wide circles. "There were strange shapes here."

Rey confirmed, voice coming out a bit breathless. "Metal rings. It's a style," she said. "Keep going."

"Gladly."

Without warning, he grabbed her hips and forced her to pivot in place. Rey gasped in surprise, but allowed herself to be moved. Behind her, the man shifted to his knees, head level with her backside. His large hands smoothed over her pockets, blatantly feeling her up, then split in different directions. One went north, resting on her lower back in a clear command: bend. Rey complied as his other hand curled into the waistline of her shorts and tugged roughly. He didn't pull them down, only backward.

His movements and the friction between her legs sent thrills straight to her core; Rey wondered if she would be able to stand much longer or if her knees would give out completely. "What are you doing?" she managed to ask.

"Investigating." He traced a line she could only see in the mirror, though this one felt hotter than his other sketches. "I only saw a profile of your best feature," he went on. "I couldn't see your tan lines."

He sounded amused; the image of him smiling at her ass made Rey dip forward more to accentuate her curves. "Well? Do you see them now?"

A short humming sound was his only reply before swiftly yanking down her denim shorts; they fell around her ankles with a soft plop. “There they are."

Rey expected him to use his fingers again and finish tracing. So when his lips made contact with her skin instead, she nearly pitched forward. One of his hands snaked around the front of her body, fingers splaying over her stomach to anchor her.

Rey leaned against the makeshift brace more when his tongue's tip ran along the invisible edge of her bikini bottoms. At the top, he nipped her gently before trailing back the way he'd come. It felt both obscene and, oddly, more intimate than if he'd gone straight for her dripping center.

He didn't ignore that part of her too long, thankfully. The hand on her stomach traveled south, his pinkie and ring fingers the first to touch what her vibrator had worked earlier.

"Fuck." Her legs shook in warning. Rey wobbled and began to tilt face-first toward the floor.

In an instant, both of his arms locked around her thighs, reeled her back against his chest, and attempted to rub her trembling into submission. "You aren't allowed to fall. I don't want you to remember this as the night you got a concussion instead of an orgasm."

Rey's first instinct was to laugh. None of the guys she'd been with was able to get her off the first time; this one sounded confident, almost cocky, about his abilities. Her second instinct was to groan with want: the promise in his voice was intoxicating. And the protectiveness too.

What ended up coming out of her mouth was a mix of both, then a demand. "Find me something sturdy." She looked down at his face from where she was perched on his shoulder. Her fingers swept strands of his hair back behind his endearingly large ears. "A bench. A wall. Anything."

* * *

He considered his options, but there was only one that felt right. “Hold on.” Ben turned her again, keeping her close to his chest this time, then rested his shoulder against the front of her thighs, gripping the backs as he rose in one fluid motion.

Rey’s shriek of surprise dissolved into a giggle-fit as he carried them toward her abandoned shower stall in a fireman hold. She kicked her shorts free from her feet, letting them drop on the tile. She occupied herself by tracing lines on his skin, these ones following the ink marking the space between his shoulder blades.

“Marine, huh?”

“Former.” Ben set her down, taking the opportunity to run his hands from her legs to her breasts, scrunching her t-shirt as he went. Rey’s hands buried themselves in his hair—a feeling he was growing used to rather quickly. Her nails felt amazing against his scalp.

“Can I call you ‘soldier’?” He couldn’t tell if she was being serious or not, but she added, “I need to call you _something_.”

Hell, he hadn’t told her his name. “Ben. You can call me Ben.”

“Ben.” She smiled around the syllable, her eyes dropping to his lips. “Can I kiss you?”

Things fluttered in his gut, though not butterflies. He wasn’t nervous about this. Perhaps he should have been. He hadn’t been with anyone after his medical discharge and recovery; it had been longer than he cared to admit since he’d kissed someone. And now a beautiful woman was asking his permission? The fluttering turned into clenching, a tightening that stretched lower than his stomach.

“Yes.”

She was still smiling when she pressed her mouth to his. He could feel her teeth against his lips, and he grinned in return. Ben stooped slightly, changing the angle of their mouths. Rey kissed him again, this time with only a slight part between her lips, and Ben let himself get lost in her contrasts. Softness with an edge. Sweet with a hint of spice. Mystery with an air of familiarity.

It felt natural, being with Rey.

He left kisses along her throat as he continued to bend down, returning to his knees and the reason he’d brought them to the shower stall in the first place.

Wrapping his hand around her right ankle, he gently lifted it from the shower floor, widening the space between her legs so he could see everything. The blush painted across her sun-kissed cheeks was the only hint of shyness at being on full display. With a fingertip, Ben swiped the space between her thigh and pelvis, marking the last line where her skin color differed by a shade.

Above him, Rey let out a contented sound. When he began to ask if she was still okay with this, she lifted her right leg over his shoulder, heel digging into his back, and drew him closer.

Ben didn't need any further confirmation or prompting. He went to work.

Her gasp as he first touched her triggered his mission-mindset. He was going to get her off, dammit, as if it were his sworn duty. The doubt in her voice earlier hadn't escaped him; and he knew, too, that women could have difficulty with new partners (or ones who simply didn't have a clue how to listen and adapt).

He'd been trained to listen. And adapt. Whatever was necessary to lead to victory.

That didn't mean he had to go in hard and fast. He wanted to get the lay of the land first, map her out with his fingers, his mouth.

After a moment, Rey cleared her throat. She tugged on his hair to tilt his head up, and her other thumb dragged over his slick bottom lip. Rey bit hers.

"What is it?"

"This is. . .this is lovely," she began. "But Ben--"

"You don't like it." He winced at how sour the words sounded.

"I do," she insisted. "But, Ben, it's too. . .I was using a vibrator before and. . ."

"Oh." He started to understand where this was going.

Her pink cheeks went scarlet, but she managed to hold his eyes when she told him, "Don't be so gentle, okay?"

He choked on his reply, but he brought his wet hand up to offer a little salute. Rey's face broke into a wide grin, and she laughed loudly before crying out at his second approach.

If she didn't want gentle, he could give her what she needed. He stroked and sucked, using his hands, his nose, his mouth, his tongue, even his teeth at the right moments. When he had her thoroughly worked up, he surprised her by lifting her other leg off the ground and slinging it over his opposite shoulder.

With her back fully supported by the shower wall, Rey used her hands to comb through his hair, thoughtfully avoiding the spot he'd hit on the tile. She steered his head a little to the left, groaning when he his lips finally latched around the sensitive bundle of nerves he'd been purposefully neglecting.

He hummed, and she rewarded him by issuing a string of curses interspersed with his name.

Ben held one cheek in each hand to stabilize her, kneading her muscles. They tensed and relaxed as she pushed her hips forward, burying him so completely in her heat that breathing wasn't possible.

But he'd go blue in the face before stopping after her thighs began to tremble, and she repeated how close she was over and over.

He maneuvered his hands until he could hold her up with one and slip the other to the front, bringing his fingers back into play. He'd barely sheathed them inside of her before she spasmed, thighs clenching around his head and making him hear the ocean while she crashed through her orgasm.

* * *

Rey shuddered. The last time she’d found release had been before embarking on her journey to the Pacfic Northwest. And it sure as heck hadn’t been as powerful as the one she’d just experienced. She was still floating.

Ben kissed the inside of her thighs as he parted them and carefully lowered them from his shoulders to the floor. Still shaky, Rey sagged against him, sliding down his chest and wrapping her arms around his neck, massaging the spots where her legs had rested. He moaned in response, holding her waist and grinding his hips against her. Though he was still wearing his jeans, Rey could feel the swell of his erection.

She placed a hand on his chest, pushing against him until he got the message to lean back, propping himself on his elbow. Rey followed, straddling his hips and pressing her body intentionally against his before dipping her head to capture his swollen lips.

"That was incredible," she murmured against his lips. "More than made up for what you interrupted."

"Happy to right a wrong," he responded, his fingers curling into her damp hair and stroking the curve of her ear.

“Is that a typical apology?” She smirked as she inched back on his thighs to give her more access to his jeans, working on his fly. “Because I’m sure I could find other things to be upset about. Like how stupidly hot you are.” Her hand dipped into his jeans, sliding under his boxers to draw him out. What her hand encountered made her eyes widen. “Or. . .or how big you are. Shit.”

Beneath her, Ben lifted his hips and pushed his jeans down over his ass, groaning as she stroked him. “Is it something I should apologize for?”

She gaped at him and looked from his half-sincere expression to his cock in her hand, then back. “Hell no.”

Was he blushing? Or was the color in his cheeks leftover from his ardent attention to her needs?

“Do you have a condom?” she asked. “I didn’t bring one with me.”

He stiffened beneath her—not in the good way. “Fuck.”

“Ben?”

He shook his head, running one hand over his long face. “I wasn’t prepared for this. I haven’t had sex since my heart attack last spring.”

Rey’s hand clenched around his length as if she could take his pulse there. “I’m not going to kill you, am I?”

He laughed. “Maybe if you keep strangling my dick like that.”

She adjusted her hold on him, but she continued her lazy strokes. It was a disappointment that they didn’t have any protection, but it wasn’t the end of the world either. After a pensive moment, she shrugged. “Hands and mouth are okay by me. You?”

He swallowed and nodded. “More than okay.”

She smiled, then abruptly dropped his cock from her hold, letting it rest against his stomach. The tip of it nearly reached his belly button. No, that wasn’t possible. It would be ridiculous. All of this was ridiculous. This man and her reaction to him were utterly out of her wheelhouse, but Rey wasn’t intimidated. And she wasn’t questioning it either. All she wanted was to make him feel as good as he’d made her feel.

She stretched over him, bringing her mouth to meet his once more. Moving along his jaw, Rey kissed a path down the column of his throat, then veered to the right, planting a light peck on the scar she now recognized for what it was. “If you start having palpitations or something, give me a sign, okay?”

“Rey, I’ll be fine,” he assured her softly. “I was cleared months ago. I’ve just been--”

“Afraid?”

“Apprehensive,” he altered, sucking in a breath as she continued placing kisses along the center of his abdomen, brushing her lips over his belly button. “A lot of people think it’d be a great way to die, in the act, but--”

Rey’s tongue touched him, and his speech ceased immediately. A satisfied, perhaps smug, smile tugged at her lips as she took him into her mouth and began to caress him with her hands. Rey didn’t know anything about heart attacks, but she imagined if he could withstand the shock of finding her naked in the shower _and_ burying his face between her thighs, Ben could probably withstand a blowjob.

Probably.

* * *

A sweet saltiness coated her mouth, prompting Rey to hum delightedly around her fork.

“I told you it was amazing stuff,” Ben said, cutting his own slice of chocolate peanut butter pie. “Mom’s recipe.”

“Does she live around here?” Rey inquired casually.

“No, I’m a transplant.”

Ben perched on the stool next to her, staring at the blue neon sign above the bar that designated it as a place for REFRESHMENTS. Upon crossing to this side of the truck stop, Ben had mentioned that, one of these days, he planned to change his uncle’s vintage decor, probably to something red. Research indicated the warm hue triggered hunger. Rey’s stomach clenched with another type of hunger before growling from lack of food.

“My family’s back East,” he continued, “near a place you’ve probably never heard of.”

“What? Just because I’m British?” Rey felt like poking him with her fork tines, but punctured the pie instead. “Try me.”

“Manassas.”

“Small world. I know where that is.” Rey chewed thoughtfully, wondering how much to share about herself. After they finished their pie, she imagined they’d go their separate ways. Her tree planting cohort was moving on to another camp by Wednesday, and Ben (and his shower) would be a thing of the past. She found herself not wanting to let him go. Worrying her bottom lip, she extended a personal detail with fragile hope: “I attend uni at George Mason.”

His fork squeaked against the ceramic plate. “You what?”

Confused by his reaction, Rey’s stomach knotted. She’d never navigated a conversation after a one-night stand, especially not one she wished didn’t have to end. They hadn’t even gone as far as she’d wanted.

“Yeah, I’m on scholarship for civil engineering there. Minor in environmental engineering. It’s one of the reasons I took a summer job planting trees. I want to see how things work as they are now so that I can design better ways to do it.” She was vomiting words, but she couldn’t seem to stop. “It’s not bad, this job, but it means I move around every few days. And I’m used to that too, in a way. Foster kid. But sometimes I just want to stay in one place, you know? Like now. It’d be nice to. . .stay.”

Rey barely contained adding _with you_ to the last statement and forced herself to shut up by shoveling more pie into her mouth.

Ben, though, was perceptive. He finished his bite of pie and looked at her from the corner of his eye. A fresh blush crept over his cheeks. “I’d like to see you again, Rey.”

She nearly choked on a swirl of peanut butter. “You would?”

He swiveled on his vinyl barstool to make full eye contact with her. His dark, ochre irises shone forest green in the neon sign’s blue light. “Would you like that?”

Great, now she had to make a decision on the spot—except it didn’t feel like a decision at all. She’d latched on to the desire to see him again when he’d had his mouth between her legs. Her answer rolled off her tongue. “Yes.”

Rey moved a stray hair out of her face, attempting to curl it behind her ear, but the rebellious strand refused her order. Instead of correcting it, she began pressing her finger against the crust crumbs on her plate while her mind bulleted through a list of questions. Why did he want to see her again? How would they possibly make a country-wide relationship work? Why was she assigning them to a relationship after one, albeit pleasurable, encounter and a shared dessert?

His fingers brushed the loose strand back, tucking it more effectively behind her ear, before caressing the side of her face, tipping her chin to meet his gaze. “I can sense your doubt.”

Rey sighed. “My brain feels like it’s going a mile a minute.”

Ben gave a knowing hum and reached for his prescription: another slice of pie, this one even larger than the first. “What are you trying to figure out? If it’s whether I’m sincere, then know--”

Her hands reached and smoothed over his knees. “No. I believe you.” She smiled, shaking her head to reset her thoughts. “I’m just trying to figure out how to build an eco-friendly, high-speed rail system from here to Manassas without major environmental impact.”

She got what she needed to hear to bring her fully back to center: his light laughter.

“Maybe I’ll take this piece and leave the rest for you,” he remarked, a twinkle in his eye. “Actually, I was thinking I could fly back for Thanksgiving.”

Her heart soared, then crashed. “Oh. I already have plans.”

“Going home?”

She shook her head. “Nowhere to go home to.”

Though she hadn’t said it with any emotion, Ben’s features twitched in pain. “Right. Foster care.”

“Right,” she confirmed gently. Not wanting to delve into her darker past, she offered up a lighter moment instead. “I had a professor last semester who found out and invited me to eat with her husband and a few friends on holiday.” Rey smiled with fond remembrance over the warm meal and the welcoming atmosphere where she’d been greeted like a member of the family. “I already promised I’d come for Thanksgiving.”

“I see.”

Still caught in the memory, Rey laughed. “Professor Organa promised there would be more--” The last word stuck in her throat, eyes enlarging as her overtaxed mind made a curious, impossible connection. “--pie.”

Ben’s utensil dropped from his hand, bounced onto the counter, and finally clattered to the floor. His jaw fell nearly as far. “Did you say Organa?”

Her whisper sounded like she was conjuring a ghost. “Leia.”

His voice matched hers. “Leia Organa is your professor?”

Rey nodded. The sugar had done its job, turning her mind sluggish against her will. Still, she trusted that the fluttering in her gut had nothing to do with the sweet treat. She wasn’t imagining that her Political Science professor had mentioned her grown son at Passover months ago, expressing how sad she was about how he’d moved across the country; how she thought he’d put himself in seclusion; and how she worried about him being all alone out there.

Her eyes finally turned back to his. “What’s your last name?”

He hesitated only a moment. “Solo,” he revealed. “After my father: Han.”

She could not believe this. Of all the people in the world to have met and connected with, she’d found Ben-freaking-Solo. Rey’s hands caught her forehead as it tipped forward. “I slept with my professor’s son,” she mumbled.

“Not technically,” he amended. “We didn’t--”

“I sucked off my professor’s son, then,” she amended. “And he. . .fuck.”

“Yeah. He ate you out in the shower of a truck stop,” Ben reminded her with a smile, speaking of himself in the third person. Continuing to watch her, his lips fell. “Does this. . .change things for you? About wanting to see me again?”

He sounded hurt by the possibility, and that made Rey’s heart thud against her rib cage harder. She did her best to reassure him. “No,” she said with a smile. “No, it just means this is kismet."

"Fate, you mean. Destiny." He didn't sound convinced.

Rey, though, held out hope for romance—she had always believed things happened for a reason. You ended up where you needed to be and met the people who would change your life in some way. This was no different.

"Think about it, Ben," continued Rey. "What are the chances we’d meet and have this immediate connection? Then find out we’re connected in other ways too?”

He ran a fingertip through a chocolate smear on his plate. As he raised it toward his mouth, Rey circled his wrist and forced him to pause. She lowered her mouth to the tip, wrapping her lips over the digit and sucking gently.

“Oh, now that’s not fair,” he breathed, shifting in his seat.

“It’s not fair I’ll be across the country at the end of the month either,” she lamented, licking her lips as she sat up. “But you’ll come visit?”

He hummed and grasped her hand, thumb rubbing lines over the center of her palm. “My mother will be thrilled.”

Rey laughed, then leaned closer to whisper in a conspiratorial voice despite their being the only occupants in the bar. “She won’t be the only one happy to see you.”

She closed the small space between them and planted a light kiss on his lips, one Ben couldn’t keep from chasing after. His hand cupped the back of her head and didn’t let her escape very far. He tasted like sweet sin, an indulgence she should turn down but knew she’d accept without hesitation, without regret.

Placing her hands on his knees, Rey leaned into the kiss and into the promises they formed together without words.

* * *

In the end, Ben didn’t make it to Thanksgiving. He couldn’t go that long without seeing her again. He flew out for a Labor Day picnic at the end of the summer.

After binge watching all of _ The Great British Bake Off _ online together, he showed up for Halloween, dressed as Noel to complement her Prue. On Veteran’s Day, though she yelled at him for his increasing carbon footprint, Rey held his hand through a remembrance ceremony at Arlington National Cemetery.

By Thanksgiving, he’d returned the truck stop’s operations to his Uncle Luke so he could help Rey rehab following a motorcycle accident. During dinner, his mother praised his pie recipe, proclaiming it was better than her own. His father hugged him that night, congratulating him on figuring out what was important and holding onto her. He advised Ben to never let go.

December brought an early graduation for Rey and a special gift—one she wore proudly on her hand into the new year.

As they walked the National Mall together, hand-in-hand, his thumb stroked over the simple band absentmindedly.

A moment later, he felt a light pinch through his wool coat. It didn’t hurt, but he knew she meant it to. Tilting his head down, Ben regarded her with a quizzical expression. “What was that for?”

She looped her arm through his and rested her head on his shoulder. “Just a reminder that this is real.”


End file.
